Author notes: Hello everybody, and welcome to my very first Harry Potter fanfiction. This is a fresh new story, with new characters and exciting new lore that I've been brewing for a few years now, and slowly but surely I'm getting to make it. I know it can be a bit jarring to have a whole new cast of characters one is not familiar with, but I'll do my best to make it worth it. This is a very personal project of mine and I would be forever grateful if you gave this one a chance. Don't hesitate to give feedback, any comments will be appreciated.

Chapter 1: The Legacy of Henry C. Martin

Centuries came and went unchanged, the darkness being those old and tired walls' sole companion. But they were never lonely, for they were always being watched. Were it not for the water's intermittent dripping from the ceiling, time in that room would have been completely still, with nothing to separate future from past.

That was... until the day those old walls crumbled.

An excavation crew came forth into the unmapped chamber as dust from the blast settled. A powerful beam of light was cast to the centre of the room, disturbing the ever-present darkness and at last revealing the details these old walls had long forgotten. A vast domed structure, housing a colossal bronze statue of an ancient sorcerer holding a long piece of parchment on one hand and a miniature castle resting in the palm of the other. In its centre was a sarcophagus, surrounded by celestial floor markings and a lone lectern overlooking the statue.

The crew was satisfied. At last, they'd finally found it.

The Tomb of the Architect.

The day earlier

"... Good Afternoon Engel's Hollow, this is your radio station bringing you today's news. With the approaching conclusion of this EFL season, relegated teams are already looking to the 2009 championship. As of today, the 7th of April, most of them have resumed training routines, despite the rainy weather…"

I quietly gazed at the soft rain falling onto the backseat car window, disturbing my foggy reflection with finger-drawn castle towers on the way to my uncle's house. I could hear my brother, J, muttering something to the sound of his earbuds, likely listening to one of his many audiobooks. In the front seat, our parents occasionally made small talk over whatever they heard on the radio in between periods of silence. Eventually, they decided to notice me.

"Honey, you're so quiet back there." Mum's eyes flicked back to look at me. "Wasn't there anything special at school today?"

"Um… no, why would there be?" I questioned.

"Because of your birthday, of course! Don't they hold small celebrations for students?" She said, as I saw her eyes gleam in the rearview mirror.

"Ah…" I sighed unintentionally, failing to not seem bothered by that assertion "I didn't tell anybody. Didn't want that kind of attention."

"Don't be silly dear, you would've had such a great time! What is there not to like?" She asked.

"Mum, we talked about this. I don't feel like getting a birthday party this year. Can't I just have a normal day?"

"Every other day is normal sweetheart, what's wrong with having a day just for you?"

"Mum, please…"

"Alright, alright." She winked at me through the mirror, and I knew exactly what was coming. Ugh, not again.

"Special day or not, I do hope you don't forget about your homework today," Said my dad, in his severe, brassy voice tone, "I better not have to sign another note from your teacher."

"Dad, that was only one time!"

"So let it be the last… and how many times do I need to tell you to take your finger off the car window?!" He scolded me from the driver's seat. I quickly retracted my hand.

"Don't be so hard on his birthday, honey." Mum called him out on his tone.

"I'm teaching him discipline, Mary."

"Everything's discipline for you, Winston. He'll behave himself." Mum argued back, though I'm not so sure it was in my favour. Given my track record, there was sufficient likelihood that I'd do something stupid and make a fool out of myself yet again.

And so we stayed in an awkward silence the rest of the way to my uncle's house, a small one story home in West End. It stood out from the others due to its many, many loud and shaky bird cages whose feathered inhabitants sang a near constant "hoot" choir. A bunch of pigeons flew away as we approached the doorstep with our umbrellas, likely attracted by all the bird food lying around. It took but a doorbell ring for a large disorganised chant of "SURPRISE!" to confirm my worst expectations.

Great. Yet another birthday party.

"Hey there, Carlos! How's everything?" Uncle William approached me for a side-hug with a big smile stamped across his face, still in his work clothes. He wore a simple green polo shirt tucked into his trousers and a very thick combed black hair, despite being the older brother to my balding father. Mum always said Dad's hair loss was due to work stress. I'm not sure I believe her.

"Oh, Hey Uncle William… Is this all for me?" I asked in a deceptively innocent tone.

"It is! Just don't mind the preparations, we did put everything together in a bit of a hurry." He chuckled.

"Oh… so this is in a hurry?" I asked, looking at the faces of relatives from all over the country obfuscating the familiar salmon wallpaper, knowing very well they must have been planning this for at least a month. They all stood behind a large table filled with all kinds of sweets, a few wrapped presents and what looked like a carrot and chocolate cake, likely baked by mum herself, with eleven candles on top.

"No need to thank me, though. Your mother took care of most of it, really!" he explained.

Of course she did.

"I told you you deserved a special day, sweetheart! Come on now, let's go greet everyone!" Mum said as she pretty much shoved me through the door onto that sea of relatives.

Okay, Carlos. Take a deep breath. You can get through this.

And so it began. A lot of family was there, many whose faces and names often escaped me. I got promptly showered with cheek-pinching, tight hugging and hair tousling, as well as uncomfortable questions about what I've been up to, how my school life is going, what I wanna do when I'm older, etc. Mum's cake tasted great in the first few bites, but it was so heavy on the chocolate I worried it wouldn't sit well in my stomach. After the whole candle-blowing and the awkward 'happy birthday' chants it was time for gifts, which were mostly clothes I would wear every once in a blue moon and books I most certainly would never read. All well meaning, but strange to me. Uncle William was the one person whose gifts I appreciated the most, because he would always care to know and ask me if I wanted anything. Last year he gave me a drawing notebook that I've since filled with sketches of all sorts of castles I've daydreamed about.

This year, however, he didn't ask.

Soon enough, everybody mingled and engaged in conversation. My parents sat around the TV with other relatives, each of them trying to talk over the noise of general chatter and music. I, for the most part, just sat in a corner pouffe and zoned out staring at one of the cats, resisting the urges to start pestering them and get clawed, something mum would sternly disapprove of.

"So Junior, how is school going? I hear you're nearly finished with that prep school of yours." I heard one of my many nameless relatives ask my brother over the loud music.

"Not quite, actually, I should be done by next year's summer." J said in return.

"I see. Any idea what career you're going for?"

"Probably law," He confidently responded. "I've been studying the examination processes and looking into what institutions I prefer. Most of the ones I like are in London, but there are some great ones around Cambridge and Manchester too…"

"Oh please honey, don't!" Mum chimed in. "London is already far enough, we don't want you to move too far home."

"Oh mum, you need to get over this," J said in response. "You know I plan on applying for foreign exchange once in uni. What are you gonna do then?"

"I'm not letting you go, that's what I'll do." She joked, knowing very well that she wouldn't get to do such a thing no matter how much she wanted him to stay.

"And what of you, Carlos? Any plans for university?"

I quit breathing for a moment as their attention suddenly turned to me, the birthday boy sat in a lonely pouffe, occasionally poking a very annoyed tabby cat.

"Me? university?" I asked, hoping they'd remember the fact I had literally just turned eleven.

"We do believe he wants to be an architect." Mum interjected, now with more glee in her response. "He's always drawing all sorts of castles in his notebooks, it's what he's liked for years now."

"Though it'd be preferable if he actually did his school work instead of drawing all the time." Dad scolded me again, judging me with his eyes. I shrunk in my pouffe.

"Don't be so dismissive hun, it's a skill he's practising." She responded.

"An architect, huh? Taking after your grandfather I see." My relative patted me on the shoulder proudly.

I perked up my head at that statement. "What do you mean by my grandfather?"

"I-it was probably nothing, dear!" Mum spoke up rather tensely as Dad held his breath. I felt confused.

"Hey, what's that about? Boy never met his grandfather, did he?" The relative asked my parents. "Henry C. Martin was his name. A brilliant architect he was, and very adventurous too…!"

"... And very absent from home." Said my father, bitterly. My relative cast him a perplexed look while Mum sighed in defeat.

"Oi, William!" The relative then called my uncle over to the conversation.

"Hey, Magnus!" Uncle William approached the conversation, finally reminding me of my relative's name, "Talking about our father, are we?"

"Not really, we aren't." Dad attempted to dodge the topic, visibly annoyed.

"I was just telling the boy a bit about his grandfather. He was quite the talented architect, right?" Magnus continued.

"Oh right, right, an architect…" Uncle William hesitated for a moment, glancing at my parents before responding. "Yes, yes, he… he designed many famous buildings around town, though you'd never tell by how much he travelled abroad." He let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh yeah, what's up with that?" Magnus then asked. "Winston here said he was almost never home, where did he travel to so much?"

Uncle William hesitated again before responding, glancing at my parents at every chance he got. Mum looked concerned at my dad while he stared daggers at my uncle. Something was off.

"Oh, all sorts of places. He was a… how do I put it… international historic preservationist, you see? Always travelling the world to all sorts of historical sites that needed architectural maintenance. He also brought home all manner of souvenirs and artefacts in the process." He explained, finishing with a forced laugh.

"Wait, so my grandfather was an architect… but also a collector?" I asked, trying to make sense of what I was being told.

"You could say that, yes." Said my uncle. "He'd spend hours in his study going over his collection. It was his favourite pastime."

"What sort of stuff did he collect?" I then questioned.

"Well… Mostly old jewels, pottery and the like. Never cared too much for it, but I was glad it made him happy."

"Oh I'm sure it made him very happy. So happy he practically forgot we existed," Dad retorted. "It's not like he ever cared to tell us where he was going or what he was doing on those trips of his. He could have been committing crimes for all we know!"

"Come now Winston, there's no need for that," Uncle William replied nervously. "I know he wasn't perfect, but he was still our father, and we should respect his memory."

"I don't see why we should," my father said, his voice rising. "He didn't respect us enough to stick around and be a father to us. He'd be gone for weeks on end to who knows where and just expect things to be fine when he returned, until…"

Dad paused for a moment, letting the background party noise fill in our ears for a moment.

"'until' what?" I asked, trying to break the tension. My dad shot me a warning look, but it was too late. Uncle William had already started speaking.

"Until the day he didn't come back at all." Uncle William said, his voice low and even.

"What do you mean he didn't come back?" I asked again, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"He disappeared," my dad said, his voice tight. "Just like that. One day he was here, and the next he was gone. No explanation, no note, nothing."

The tension between my father and uncle was palpable, and I could tell that this was a touchy subject for both of them.

"Did you ever try to find out what happened to him?" I questioned, breaking the silence.

"We didn't know where to even begin," my uncle replied. "There was no trace of him. No clues, no leads, nothing. It was as if he had just vanished."

"If you ask me, I think he just got tired of being a father," My dad said bitterly. "He wanted to live his own life without any responsibilities."

"That's not fair, Winston," Uncle William said. "We don't know for sure what happened or what he was going through. Maybe he had his reasons for leaving."

"I don't care what his reasons were," my father said, his voice rising again, "He had a family, and he just abandoned us. He didn't care about anyone but himself."

"That's not true," Uncle William said. "He loved us, in his own way. He just had a hard time showing it."

"He loved keeping secrets from us," my father shot back. "He was never around when we needed him. He was a terrible father."

There was a long pause, and I could feel the tension in the air. I wanted to say something, to make it stop, but I didn't know what to say. Eventually, Uncle William spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"I know this hurts, Winston," He said. "But you can't keep holding on to the past like this. It's not healthy for you or for Carlos."

I looked up at my father, hoping he would listen to Uncle William. But he just glared at him and stood up from his chair.

"I need some air," he said gruffly, before storming out of the room.

We all sat there, stunned by the sudden outburst between my father and uncle. I knew there was tension between them, but I never realised it was this deep-seated. Uncle William's attempt at soothing my dad only seemed to make things worse. As my father left the room, I wished someone would say something, anything, to ease the tension.

"Well, that went about as well as it could have," Mum said tentatively, unsure of what to say next, "I'm so sorry, William."

"It's not your fault, Mary," he replied with a small smile. "Winston just has a lot of pent-up emotions that he hasn't dealt with yet."

"I don't understand," I said, feeling confused, "Why is he so angry at my grandfather?"

"It's… a long story," Uncle William said with a sigh. "Your grandfather wasn't the easiest man to understand, and he had his own demons to deal with."

"What kind of demons?" I pressed, my curiosity getting the better of me again.

"Let's… let's just say he faced some issues that he had a hard time dealing with," Uncle William replied, his voice soft. "And unfortunately, it caused a lot of pain for your dad and me."

"I wish I could have met him," I said, feeling a twinge of sadness. "Grandpa, I mean."

"I too wish you could have," Uncle William said, patting my shoulder gently. "He was a complicated man, but he knew how to be kind."

As we sat there in silence, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of person my grandfather was. It seemed like he was a mystery to everyone, even to his own family. And now, years after his disappearance, the wounds he left behind still lingered.

"Either way, enough about that. Today should be all about Carlos, right?" Uncle William cheerfully announced in an attempt to lighten the sombre mood, "So tell us Carlos, any idea what you wanna do when you grow up?"

Oh you cannot be serious.

"I'm sorry, I uh… I need to use the bathroom." I said, quickly getting up and contorting myself through everyone to get to the restroom as fast as I could.

Upon getting there, however, I noticed the door was shut. I knocked and waited a bit, only to receive a muffled "occupied" for a response. Great, now where was I going to hide from everyone?

I then noticed Uncle William's spare room's door was ajar, deciding that would likely be a more comfortable place to escape the party for a bit. I gently pushed the door open, which thankfully didn't creak, to let light into the dark room mostly filled with the silhouettes of old cloth-covered furniture and stacked boxes, possibly leftovers from moving. After carefully closing the door, I flip the light switch and immediately recognize some of the dusty items.

One of them was Uncle William's old single bed from when he lived with grandma, Now with several pieces of clutter on top of it. I recognized it by the thin, polished dark wood bed frame, the only thing missing being the woolly teal bed covers it used to have. A few boxes away was an old white office desk with curved black sidings and keyboard roller-tray, on top of it rested uncle's old computer. Yes, that kind of old, beige CRT monitor with matching casing and peripherals. I remember the many nights me and my brother would be eager to visit my uncle specifically so we could play on his computer and have access to the internet. That, of course, when we weren't busy bickering over whose turn it was. Back then he'd give us gaming magazines that came with CD-ROMS with many flash games, which we would waste hours on.

Upon surveying the piles of boxes, however, something different caught my eye. A dusty dark wood chest that I'd never seen before was hidden under a piece of white cloth and some old junk. Removing it sent a cloud of dust up my eyes and nostrils, leaving specks on my glasses. Upon some tactile inspection, I concluded the chest seemed to be unlocked. Its lid was heavy to the point I was worried it could slip and crush my fingers. Inside of it I found… more dust. Under all that dust, however, there were several papers and…

"Wait a minute…!" I exclaimed upon seeing the many architectural schematics of what I could only guess to be… castles! There were battlements, halls, staircases, towers and the sort, all drawn in great detail. These were the kinds of drawings I'd always wanted to make for the castles in my imagination. All the texts, however, were written in a language I couldn't understand. None of the characters were recognisable, not even the numerals or measurements.

Just as I was about to lose interest and close the chest, my attention was drawn to something else: an old book, with a red leather cover, intricate gold engravings and a central embossed figure taking the shape of… the strangest clock I'd ever seen. Its dials were multiple and off-centred, marked with strange symbols and numbers I couldn't instantly recognize. It clearly measured time, but it did more than just that. Upon touching it, I noticed the inner dial was a mobile piece. I was able to rotate it along the clock border, seemingly moving it forward and backward in time. The other pieces weren't exactly static either, somehow moving and rotating relative to the inner dial. It's as if the book had an entire mechanism embedded into its cover, something which defied all logic of how books work.

"Ah, I see you found your grandfather's belongings!" I winced as I heard uncle William's voice surge from behind me, nearly dropping the book in the process.

"Uncle William! I was just, er…" I stuttered, very poorly pretending to not be snooping, "What exactly is all this?

"This, Carlos, is the chest where some things left by your grandfather are stored, much of it being his personal research."

"Research?" I looked at the many papers written in what looked like an ancient rune language, "What kind of research was this?"

"Architectural research, from what I could gather. Like I said, his work involved studying and maintaining historical architectural sites. It seems one of his biggest fascinations were ancient and medieval constructions. There's not much I could tell you about it though, since it's all really old and written in a strange language. I've never managed to find someone who could translate it." Uncle William explained.

"He wrote all this in a weird language no one can understand?" I asked. Uncle William nodded, "But why would he do that?"

"Maybe this was something he really wanted to keep to himself. He never opened up to us over what it really was, but we could tell he was very diligent about it. It must have been very personal to him."

"Wow… Okay, um, Uncle William,'' I asked once again, doing a very poor job at excusing my noseyness, "Do you know what this clock is?" I nod to the book I was holding.

"Ah, this is an astronomical clock. It displays astronomical information alongside the passage of time throughout a year, like tracking relative sun and moon positions as well as zodiac constellations."

I was fascinated by the embedded clock and couldn't help but continue to play with the dials, watching as the celestial bodies moved in relation to each other.

"This is amazing," I said, still turning the dials. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm glad you find it interesting," Uncle William said with a smile. "Did you open the book to see what's inside of it?"

"I, uh… No, I haven't yet." I admitted.

"Go on and open it then, I think you'll like it." He encouraged me, and so I complied.

Upon opening the book, I realised it was filled to the brim with… nothing. All pages were blank, devoid of any kind of marking or anything to indicate that the book had ever been opened.

"It's empty!" I exclaimed.

"It is. That's the only book in your grandfather's collection that had nothing written whatsoever, which is why I believe it would be a perfect gift for you."

I quickly perked up my head upon hearing that. "You're giving it to me? I mean, it's really cool, but isn't it, like… a family heirloom or something?"

"You're right, It is a family heirloom. And since you like your castles just as much as your grandfather did, I feel it's only natural that it gets passed down to you."

"Wow, uncle William, I… I don't know what to say." I stammered.

"No need to say anything, just make him proud, will you?" He patted me on the shoulder. Make him proud? What was that supposed to mean?

"Thank you, Uncle William."

"Happy Birthday, Carlos."

I held the large book in my hands, finally noticing just how much of a weight it was. All that blank space, never used… but why? What's so special about this book that grandfather kept it untouched? What's the purpose of the clock mechanism? What would I even do with it?

Should I even dare to use it?

An ancient clock awoke from centuries of slumber, its rusty gears and dials creaking as they began turning once more. A magical link had been located.

Four hooded figures gathered around a mint-lit cauldron, observing the scene unfold. An important decision was to be made.

Bickering ensued.

"There is no time left. It must be him!" An old raspy male voice declared.

"It can't be, he's past the age!" A stronger, bolder male voice responded. "What about the boy?"

"It is barely known if there's any magic to be found within the boy! The bloody squib he is!" The raspy-voiced, thin white-bearded figure complained.

"Excuse me, Godric, what about the other boy?" A short, soft spoken female figure chimed in.

The three figures looked at her for a moment.

"What makes you think it's him?" The bold voice named Godric asked.

"Well, he does have the Grimoire…" The soft spoken figure suggested.

"It's been in the hands of muggles for centuries, it must be tainted!" The white-bearded figure retorted.

"No such thing is possible Salazar, and you know it." Godric responded, "Furthermore, we should not forget who's responsible for the current whereabouts of the-"

"Enough of you!" A determined, black-haired female figure erupted "I will not tolerate another instance of this argument. Right now, what matters is protecting what we've built!"

"As you say…" The figure named Salazar retracted.

"Do you think they are capable, Godric?" The soft-spoken woman asked.

"If there is magic within them, they will find a way, as the Great Architect himself has." The bold man named Godric responded.

"'If' there is magic within them?" Questioned Salazar "So we aren't even sure if we're dealing with bloody mudb-"

"Watch it, Slytherin!" Godric called out Salazar, "We no longer tolerate this language. The world has moved past it."

"That's what you all say, but here we are having to protect our legacy against those filthy-"

"Salazar…!" Godric warned.

"-Knights. I was going to say knights." Salazar spoke ambiguously.

"It's not just them, either. Our foes have grown in power since our time. Stopping them now will be no easy task." The short woman spoke.

"Helga is right. Whatever we do must be done soon," Said Godric, "Only the heir can wield the power to protect our legacy and defeat them."

"They're not going to get very far without the Grimoire… will they, Rowena?" Helga asked.

"It will be an obstacle, but not an insurmountable one," Said the black-haired figure named Rowena. "There are several layers of protection I myself built, but only the Grimoire will grant safe passage to the heir."

"The false heir…" muttered Salazar.

"We don't have a choice." Rowena blurted back "He must participate. If we don't act now, all may be lost!"

All four figures stood silent for a moment, under a heavy aura.

"It's what the Great Architect would have wanted." Said Rowena.

With that, the four figures slowly nodded, Salazar being the last to agree.

And so, it was settled.

"A new heir will be chosen. The Codex shall be accessed once more!"

Author notes: Thanks for reading. Be sure to leave a comment!